


Betydelsen av Familjen

by limewire



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bigotry & Prejudice, Character Development, Deutsch | German, Families of Choice, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Omnic Crisis, Pre-Recall, Rating May Change, Svenska | Swedish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-01-07 06:21:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12227340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limewire/pseuds/limewire
Summary: When the highly acclaimed engineer Torbjörn Lindholm takes home a seemingly dysfunctional Bastion unit, he wasn't expecting his family to bond with the war machine, or for them to melt his cold views towards omnics. Takes place after the events of the 'Binary' comic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> here is my first REAL attempt at doing a multi chapter fic oh boy time to Die™
> 
> also if anyone here is actually good as german or swedish feel free to correct my shitty spelling thanks

“Alright! You are to stay in this garage and you are NOT allowed to leave under any circumstances or move anything in this garage, do I make myself clear?”

The Bastion unit cocked their head at the much shorter man, a disappointed trill echoing through the room. He seemed pretty grumpy, but they guessed that he was covering up his fear with anger.

They understood that notion completely.

“I know that you’re not like the other ones, but I only brought you here to see why you aren't attacking me, not because I'm your friend!”

With a reluctant hum, they nodded their head once. Torbjörn huffed and turned on his heel, exiting the garage while mumbling under his breath about something pertaining to his kids. He closes the door and the click of the deadbolt is heard as he locks it. Seems they were all alone now.

… Well, might as well take a look around to try and distract themself from their thoughts.

They stand up, their one slit optic illuminating the room with a soft cyan blue hue. This… was a very fascinating place. The man that had taken them in was clearly a brilliant inventor, seeing as there were several devices and machines hung up on the walls and ceiling and sprawled across worktables. Running their fingers over the metal marvels, they inspected each one closely with intense curiosity. They’ve never seen anything like this before, it was only natural that they would want to see each one up close.

Oh, what’s this? They found a few sheets of blueprints sticking out of a large drawer. The man said that they shouldn’t move anything…

… Nope. Curiosity has priority.

They pulled the drawer open a bit more and flipped through the hundreds of sheets. Their databases recognized a lot of the models… Construction mecha, robotic arms, advanced armour, and a wide variety of customized guns. This man was indeed very occupied, but seemed passionate about his work.

They admired that.

But as they flipped through the sheets, they began to see things they were way too familiar with. Titans, drop planes, spider tanks, and..!

A jiggle on the handle. They jump with a squeak at the sound, quickly closing the drawer. Completely silent now, they listened to what was happening on the other side.

“Kom igen, öppna den!”

“Damn sak är låst ...”

“Välj den, välj den!”

“Jag gör det, lugna ner dig..! Du kommer att vakna upp papa!” Was heard on the other side of the door, followed by more handle jiggling and clicking. They were speaking a language they weren’t programmed with… And they sounded like… children? They assumed that the man had offspring, and they were about to pay them a late night visit.

The door handle turns and opens, the silhouettes of two small humans gently hop down from the steps. The older one was a girl, the younger a boy. The pair quietly close the door behind them before looking around.

“Hallå? Är någon d-- HERREGUD, en Bastion enhet!!” The girl exclaimed as her line of sight met with Bastion’s, stumbling back and landing against one of the workbenches. Bastion was startled by her sudden shouting as well, scooching back with a frightened squeak. The two of them stare at each other for a moment before the girl breaks the silence.

“Varför tog pappa dig hem?” The girl asked in a hushed tone, clearly scared. Bastion tilts their head and hums, they didn’t understand Swedish.

“... Kein Schwedisch? Sprichst du Deutsch?”

Bastion nodded their head with a hum of confirmation. The girl, now knowing how to talk to the war unit, slowly stood up and thought of her next course of action. The boy was watching from afar, quite fascinated but also seemingly frightened a little. Understandably so.

“In Ordnung… Warum hat Papa dich mit nach Hause genommen?”

They looked from side to side before shrugging with a confused whirr. They never thought that anyone would want to take them in, much less this small and grumpy Swedish man.

“Warte... du kannst nicht sprechen, kannst du?” To which the war unit shook their head. They could understand English and German, but their voice box only allowed them to speak in omnicode. The girl nodded, humming a little.

“Willst du uns töten?” The boy asked from behind the workbench. His sister shot him a glare before hissing something in Swedish, but they weren’t sure why he asked that in the first place. They would never have the intention of killing another!

So they shook their head, a string of trills and chirps that sounded like they were saying ‘no’ repeatedly.

“Okay, das ist gut…!” The boy said, quieter this time. He came out and stood close to his sister, to where she seemed to be very protective of him.

“... Sind die Waffen geladen?” She asked, pointing to Bastion’s gatling and arm rifle. Torbjorn had already emptied their guns of ammunition, so they shook their head. The girl hums again as she ponders for another question.

But before she can come up with another one, Bastion exclaims something. The girl looks up, tilting her head.

“Was ist?”

They pulled at their rifle arm with a few grunts, then pulled at their gatling to no use. They shrugged and hoped that the girl got what they were trying to communicate. The girl’s eyed widened a bit, she was not expecting this old war machine to want their guns taken off.

“Du... magst die Waffen nicht?”

They nodded and whirred confirmation, making a chopping motion at their rifle arm’s elbow. The girl thought for a moment before she and her brother whispered something between themselves in Swedish. The two of them turned to Bastion with little smiles.

“Weißt du was? Ich glaube, wir können helfen.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Reinhardt and Bridgette come over to Torbjörn's place for their regular visit, the German is less than pleased to find out that Torb had brought home the same model of unit that killed his mentor.

The morning glow of a new dawn slowly rises over the horizon, the sun peeking up from its slumber and bathing the world in light. Golden rays cascaded across the land and some of them managed to land in the home of a certain man.

… A man who happened to be quite grumpy in nature.

Torbjörn grumbled as the bright beams shined over his eyes, turning over to face the less blinding side of his room. Slowly opening his heavy eyelids, he glances at the clock. 8:34. Seems he had slept in a bit…

He takes a moment to fully wake up before getting out of bed and putting his clothes on, as well as taking the daily medication for his headaches and putting on his casual prosthetic. He groggily thumps down the stairs, but he hears a strange scene before he reaches the bottom. One that frightens him at first.

He heard the laughter and chatter of his children, but he also heard the chirrs, beeps and woops of the Bastion unit he reeled in the other night. Dammit, he told them to stay in the garage!

Growling to himself, he tracked back upstairs to grab his old pulse pistol from his nightstand, hiding it in his pants. That thing'll be damned if it even thinks of pointing one of those gun barrels in his kid's direction…

Armed and ready, he slowly makes his way back down, peeking around the corner and bracing for an attack…

… That never came.

The kids had picked the lock to the garage and dragged the damn killing machine right smack dab in the middle of the living room. _The living room_. And not only that, but the little shits are decorating it too! It seemed like they had broken out nearly every washable marker, roll of tape, string, tinsel and Christmas decoration and plastered it all over the frame of the unit. Wait-- was the Bastion talking using voice clips from various recordings? Did those kids remove its _guns?_ Seems the gremlins figured out how to modify it too…

He was definitely more confused than mad. Mostly confused as to why he decided to bring it home. And now it's sitting there in his house with his kids, sounding like it's having the time of its fucking life.

 **Wow.** Why did he let his life come to this point?

The three of them were currently singing an old German rock song, with Bastion playing the audio and the children singing along to it. Torbjörn soon figured that he would need some coffee before he confronted the situation himself.

He grabbed a stool and dragged it over to the coffee machine, preparing it to make a cup. His wife was in the kitchen as well, cooking up a lovely breakfast for the two of them that filled the house with a delicious aroma.

“Well, I certainly wasn't expecting you to bring a Bastion unit home.” She said rather calmly, setting down two plates with utensils on the dining table.

“I told it to stay in the garage.” Torb growled, taking a long sip of his coffee.

“The kids are getting along with it well. As far as I'm concerned, it's not a threat.”

“I-I…” He stammered, trying to find a way to argue against that point, but alas she was right. It's guns were gone and it was currently covered in marker, tape, tinsel and ornaments. He grumbled something incoherent in Swedish, finishing off his coffee and moving on to his food.

“By the way, Bridgette is here.”

“What?”

“She came here with Reinhardt around 5 in the morning. She was playing with the unit and the kids earlier, but now she's in the garage repairing Rein’s armour.”

“He still uses that old thing?”

“Apparently.”

“Where's Rein?”

“Outside. He left as soon as he saw the Bastion.”

“Of course… Should I try to go talk to him?”

“Eat first. You'll think and talk clearly.”

A short grumble from Torb. “Alright…”

With food and coffee in his system now, he went outside in the search for his closest friend. A million thoughts raced through his mind and heart as he went on… Was Rein mad? Was he mad at _him?_ Would he hate him for bringing home the model of war unit that killed his mentor? What would Rein think of him now? He couldn’t stop the feelings of paranoia and borderline nausea as he walked around the large countryside yard.

“ _Rein!? Wo bist du?_ ” He called out, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice. He looked inside his and Bridgette’s van. Not there. He looked behind the house. Nope. It was only when he went down to the lake near his house that he would find the much larger man, sitting at the end of the dock and staring off into the distance. He wouldn’t even need to say anything for Rein to speak up, and boy did he sound gruff and angry.

“Why did you bring that _thing_ home?” The usually loud and cheerful man only turned his head slightly, not enough for Torbjörn to see his face. “And why is it playing with your _children?”_

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Torb replied, standing about a meter back from Rein. “I was originally going to kill it, but after seeing it’s unusual nature, I brought it home to study it more. You won’t _believe_ how many times I had to nag it to get up because it kept stopping to play with the wildlife.”

A moment of uncomfortable silence.

“I’ll take a look at its programming soon. As much as I hate to say it… Maybe this one isn’t bad. I don’t know.”

A small sigh slipped from Rein as he stood up. Sometimes Torbjörn forgot how tall he really was, especially after not seeing him for long periods of time.

“Maybe so,” The German started, turning to face the Swede. “But those units are the ones that killed Balderich. Even if this one has forgotten it’s combat programming, I just…”

He paused to raise a hand to his mouth, almost as if he was trying to stop himself from welling up.

“I don’t know if I could ever grow used to being around it…”

That same old wave of guilt washed over Torbjörn’s heart, evident by the change of expression on his face. He designed those things, and they were turned against not only his family, but the whole world. The guilt would never really leave him, even as it got better over the years. It’s still always weighing down on his heart, dragging his soul like a block of cinder.

“... The kids got it able to talk. Maybe you-- we could talk to it.”

“A war machine with reason?” Rein paused and thought for a moment. “... Well, if it can play with the kids, then I guess the sky’s the limit.” He shrugged.

“... Good point.” Torb looked at the ground and seemingly pondered for a moment, crossing his arms. “... I guess we best head inside.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bastion tells Rein and Torbjorn about their wartime, and the two veterans begin to sympathize with the unit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhuuu ive been in a real writing slump im dying scoob
> 
> anyways heres chapter 3 *jazz hands*

“So wait, you’re saying that you were never programmed to fight?”

«  **Nein.** *skzzt* I  _ never chose _ to fight this  **war** . *zzzt*  **_They_ ** forced me to  _ do it! _ » Bastion replied, using voice clips from various databases to ‘talk’. Torbjörn and Reinhardt were in the garage, the former looking through the unit's programming while the latter held a conversation with them. Brigette was there as well, but only listened in while working on the armour with the occasional comment.

“You always retained your original programming, but the God Program dropped in and dumped a new directive in you… So that's why you never attacked us.” Rein put a hand to his chin and stared at the floor, pondering.

« That is  **correct** . *vrrt* I managed to *skkt* get rid of the  **program** for the most part, but *zzt* some things _ remain… _ »

“It’s not something that can be removed in a snap.” Torbjörn interjected, looking through several holoscreens full of lines of code. “Some of it is ingrained in important memory and response modules, and I can’t delete it without causing serious damage. Fortunately, it’s nothing that could be lethal when played out.”

« Then  _ what is it? _ » The unit asked, turning their head up and around to look at the smaller man. Torb sighed and closed all of the holoscreens, removing the device he was using to look at their code.

“Long story short, you have the omnic equivalent of post-traumatic stress disorder.”

« … Figures. » Bastion made a sound akin to a sigh, looking down at the ground. Even without a face capable of expression, their body language said everything. For just a moment, Torb could feel a streak of sympathy for the omnic go through him.

«  **Eichenwalde** … *vvt* It was  _ terrible _ . *zzzt* All you could see was *ssst*  **Fire, lead and blood** for  _ miles _ and  _ miles _ … *zzt* The sounds still  _ rattle my mind _ . It’s  **silent torture** . » The unit clamped their arms around themself, the tiniest whine ringing out. Reinhardt listened closely to them, seeming to share their lowered mood. He was there on that day. He knew the _ terror of war. _

«  _ Many things _ were lost that day… » They looked up to the former Crusader. « I’m sure  _ you  _ would know as well. »

Rein silently nodded at the statement. Never in his life did he think he would sympathize with a war omnic, but here he was. Damn well on the verge of tears too. To think that just over a half hour ago, he was terrified out of his mind by their presence. 

“... Torbjörn, Brigette…”

Brigette perks up from her work, and Torb hops down from the worktable he was standing on to look through Bastion’s coding.

“What is it, Rein?” The younger woman chimed in, the clanging of tools being set down rattling through the room.

“Could the both of you just… Give us a moment to talk?” His voice almost broke up as he tried to hide the negative emotions.

Torb and Brigette looked between each other, a twinge of confusion being felt between them but ultimately they left Rein and Bastion to their own devices in the garage. Once the door clicked shut, Rein’s head sank into his hands, a heavy sigh leaving his lungs. Bas leaned forward a bit, their concern rising.

« Bist du  _ in Ordnung? _ »

A moment of silence. Rein gets up and sits next to the unit, pondering what to say next. 

He was lost. Lost in his thoughts. He used to fight against these things for decades, and he got joy out of it. He got joy out of protecting innocent citizens from the clutches of war. It felt like it gave him a purpose.

But now he is old and his body is no longer young, he cannot fight battles like he did in his golden youth. And now he was sitting here with one of the omnics he used to fight. A model who he always thought were emotionless machines of mass destruction whose only lust was death. 

But no. This one, this one was different. They did not want blood or bullets, nor did they did not feel alive at the sounds of war. They were gentle and kind and did not seek to cause death and destruction. They were a soldier, just as he was. A soldier who lost so much. Everything, really.

« Hey. »

The gentle tone of the voice clip snapped Reinhardt out of his drift.

« You're crying. »

The man sniffled and wiped at his tears, making a poor attempt to hide his messy flushed face.

“I-I… I never thought that I'd… That I'd ever feel guilt for killing your kind.”

He covers his mouth and closes his eyes for a long moment, too many questions pooling in his mind. Was every Bastion unit like this one here? Was he killing omnics who had no say in the Omnic Crisis? Was he… Was he killing  _ innocent people _ all this time?

“ … Bastion…”

« Yes? »

“ Do you… Do you ever go back to Eichenwalde?”

« … Of course. *zzt* I  _ always _ honor  **fallen comrades** . »

Rein wiped away at his face a bit more, managing to face Bastion with a small smile.

“S-Same here. Maybe… Maybe we could go together sometime..?”

The omnic considered it for a moment, their gaze drifting down to the ground. Perhaps this was a chance to bond with another human.

They look back over to the Crusader, their body language seeming to brighten.

« Of course. »


	4. Recall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soon after taking Bastion in, Torbjorn is called back to Overwatch.

“Alright, that should do it.” The engineer stated as he hooked up the last wire of a brand new voice box for the Bastion unit he had recently taken under his wing. He stepped down and admired the work he had done over the past few days trying to restore the battered war unit to a more presentable state. He grinded down the rust, replaced frayed cables and loose joints, built them a new functional hand, and gave them a fresh new coat of paint with colours of their choice. Now this was the moment of truth.

“Go on now, give it a try.

Bastion hesitated for a moment. They had never really had a voice aside from the electronic noises of omnicode that their old voice box was only capable of creating. Regardless, they formed together a string of words and put it through the currently unused vocalizer.

“Voice test initiated. Tester le Français. Prueba de Español. Testen Deutsch. тестування український. Тестирование русского. 日本語テスト. 繁體中文. 한국어 테스트.”

“That's… a lot.”

“The God Programs made sure that everyone understood that they wanted to terrorize them.” Bastion shrugged. Their voice was now mid toned and androgynous, a thick German accent making what would normally be a smoothly synthesized voice a rough and guttural one. Fitting for a worn and torn veteran.

Torbjörn crossed his arms, a small scowl crossing his face as he thought those words through. Those damned God Programs really did all they could to twist his tools of peace into machines of war.

But he can't think of Bastion as a tool now. Not after what he's seen from them.

“... Well, the voice is fitting.” A small smile crossed his face. “The kids will be able to understand you now.”

“Ja… I like the voice too.” They stood up and stretched their joints. “The little munchkins wanted me to help them scribble up colouring books with them after you were done with this.”

Torb laughed. “Ah yes… There's never a day when they don't make a mess of the markers and paper. Good thing they're washable!”

“Right- there’s a big chance that they’ll turn me into a big dry-erase whiteboard again.” Bastion couldn’t help but laugh a bit as well. “Well, their messy adventures are waiting for me.”  
  
“Alright then, be off with you ya big lug.

* * *

 

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

The quiet noise caught the attention of the omnic and the children.

“What is that?” One of the boys questioned. All of them knew it wasn’t coming from Bastion, since they’ve just gotten a new voice box. They begin to search the room until the battle unit digs up a small device from one of Torb’s coats.

It was small in their hands- Black, blue and orange in colour with a screen interface on it. The beeping was coming from this device. The kids crowded around them in curiosity.

The symbol in the middle of the screen- They recognized it. With a gentle tap, a small projection popped up. It read ‘OVERWATCH RECALL INITIATED. DO YOU WISH TO RESPOND, AGENT LINDHOLM?’ along with Y and N options. They leaned back as they realized what it meant.

“Torbjörn, Torbjörn!!” They approached the man urgently, the device in hand.

“... Where the hell did you find THAT?” His tone was angry at first, but was soon changed when Bastion gingerly placed the device in his hands.

“A recall’s been initiated. Overwatch is calling you.”

Torbjorn stared at the screen for a moment. His kids and wife had crowded around at this point, waiting to see what he would do.

“Reinhardt is going.” Torb’s wife spoke up. “He and Brigette already left. He figured that the decision to go back should be entirely up to you. We’ll be fine here if you go.”

“Overwatch needs you.” Bastion placed a hand on his shoulder, and Torbjörn looked back at the screen. A long moment of pondering passed before he hit Y.

A video feed popped up. Winston was there.

“Torbjörn! There’s our favorite engineer!” The gorilla exclaimed with a smile.

“Heh, good to see you too Winston. But I gotta ask… Why did you initiate the recall?” The small man asked, tilting the device’s field of view away from Bastion.

“A lot of reasons…” He adjusts his glasses. “The situation that made me initiate the recall is that Talon intruded Watchpoint Gibraltar around 2230 hours last night. They tried to hack Athena and steal classified information. The Reaper was the one leading it.”

“I-I see…” Torbjorn looked down at the ground for a moment. “Who else answered the recall?”

“Lena Oxton, Angela Ziegler, Reinhardt Wilhelm, Jesse McCree, Genji Shimada, Mei Ling-Zhou-”

“Wait, Mei and Genji are still alive? I thought both of them were dead!”

“Me too. I’m glad that they’re here now though. Genji’s doing a lot better from what I see, and Mei is… still Mei. Either way... the world needs us, Lindholm. We need all the help we can get.”

“ _All_ the help, you say?” Torb looks up to Bastion, a smile crossing his face. “...I think a friend of mine could be of service.” He turns the device to the war unit, and they wave to Winston.

“Woah- wait wait wait wait… Is-Is that a _Bastion unit?_ You befriended a _Bastion?_ ”

“My life has had many unexpected turns, Winston. Encountering a Bastion was one of the lesser ones if you really think about it.” He said rather calmy, putting himself in the view of the call as well. “Besides, this one let me look at their coding and there isn’t a trace of God Program presence to be found. It’ll be fine.”

“Well…” Winston thinks for a moment. “I am a talking gorilla from the moon, I believe a Bastion among our ranks won’t be the most odd thing to be seen here.”

Torbjorn looked up to the unit as they processed whenever or not they should go. Maybe this was their chance to prove that even an omnic of their design is capable of doing good.

“... I’ll go.”

“Alright then, it’s settled. Meet at Watchpoint Gibraltar as soon as possible, Agent Lindholm and Bastion. Winston out.”


End file.
